


we've never been the same

by Spikedluv



Series: we've never been the same [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Memorial Day, References PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 16:54:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14794364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: Steve takes another step towards healing.





	we've never been the same

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place during and after the epilogue of [watch the world chasing to find us](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14731367). 
> 
> On Monday, Memorial Day here in the USofA, I listened to the podcast that Steve listens to in the story (and which is linked in end notes), and this story popped into my head.
> 
> Written: May 29, 2018

“Hey, Steve!” Bucky called when he entered Steve’s (soon-to-be-their) apartment.

Steve was yanked out of his somber thoughts by the sound of Bucky’s voice. “Hey, Bucky,” he said, trying to sound normal.

“Hey,” Bucky said more quietly. “What’s wrong?”

Steve stood and met Bucky, stepping into Bucky’s arms and wrapping his own arms around Bucky. “Nothing’s wrong,” Steve said, burrowing into Bucky.

“You looked kind of . . . solemn just now,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, I . . .”

Bucky pulled back just enough so he could look into Steve’s face. Steve scrubbed one hand over his head at Bucky’s scrutiny.

“I was working on a sketch for the book earlier. I decided to listen to that podcast I told you about; I thought it might get me in the mood, you know?”

“I remember it,” Bucky said. “The war story one.”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “I think . . . I think it hit a little too close to home. Even though I came home seventy years after the war was over, some of the things they said about being alone and missing guys who’d become like family . . . I just didn’t expect it to affect me like that.”

Bucky rubbed Steve’s arm. “I’m sorry. What can I do?”

“I could use another hug.”

“That’s easy,” Bucky said. He pulled Steve back into his arms. “I thought you were gonna ask for something hard.”

“Can we sit on the couch?” Steve said into Bucky’s shoulder.

“Of course.”

They pulled apart, but Bucky caught Steve’s arm and led him over to the couch. They sat in silence, Steve curled into Bucky’s side, Bucky’s arm across Steve’s shoulders.

“I’m glad you’re home,” Steve said. “I didn’t realize how late it had gotten.”

“You really got lost in your head, there, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Are you hungry?”

Steve’s stomach answered for him. “I guess I could eat, but I don’t have much of a preference for anything.”

“I know just the thing.” Bucky stood and gave Steve a hand up. He didn’t relinquish Steve’s hand until they were in the kitchen. Bucky steered Steve towards the island and he went to the refrigerator.

Bucky got out an onion, a pepper, a package of deli ham, a carton of eggs, and the container of ketchup. He heated a pan on the stove while he diced the onion and pepper, all the while telling Steve what Bucky had started to refer to as Re-Tales, short for Retail Hell Tales. Bucky sprayed the pan and tossed in a handful of onion and pepper chunks.

Steve let the sound of Bucky’s voice wash over him and clear away the voices in his head.

Bucky cut up a couple slices of ham and sprinkled them into the pan. He broke two eggs into the pan and stirred them so the yolks broke. Bucky covered the pan and let the eggs cook, then flipped them and recovered the pan. It seemed like only moments after Bucky started preparing the meal that Steve had a western egg sandwich sitting on a plate in front of him.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder at Steve as he dropped more vegetables into the hot pan. “Don’t wait for me; eat it while it’s hot.”

Steve put ketchup on the egg and cut the sandwich diagonally in half. He picked up one half and slid the plate over to Bucky. Bucky shook his head, but smiled and picked up the other half.

Bucky made four sandwiches in total, and Steve ate two and a half of them. Steve helped with the clean-up and finally they were on the couch again. Bucky sat on one end and Steve laid with his head in Bucky’s lap.

Bucky picked up the remote. “Wanna watch a movie?”

“Whatever you want to watch,” Steve said. “This is all I need right now.”

Bucky found something on the Science Network. Usually Steve would be interested in whatever had captured Bucky’s attention, but tonight he merely listened to the drone of the voices as Bucky’s fingers moved over his scalp.

Steve didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until Bucky gently shook his shoulder. Together they made sure that the door was locked and the lights out. They shared the bathroom even though the master didn’t have the double vanity everyone on ‘House Hunters’ claimed was a ‘must have’.

When they were under the covers, Steve turned towards Bucky and said his name softly.

“Tell me what you need,” Bucky said, and Steve knew he could ask for anything and Bucky wouldn’t judge him.

Steve brought his right leg up and hooked it over Bucky’s hip. Bucky curled metal fingers around Steve’s hip and slid them over Steve’s ass.

“This what you want?” Bucky said.

Steve shuddered when a metal finger teased his hole. “Please.”

~*~

Steve and Bucky got to sleep in the next morning, but not too late because they’d made plans to meet Clint and Becca (who had formed an unlikely and frightening friendship based mostly on making fun of Steve and Bucky) for brunch. Afterwards they hit the Park Slope Farmer’s Market.

Since Sunday was still date day, Steve and Bucky had plans to attend ‘The Jungle Book’ at Puppetworks, but Steve was still feeling out of sorts, as if something was pressing on an exposed nerve, so when they separated from Clint and Becca the two of them returned home instead.

Steve and Bucky settled on the couch and watched the Disney version of ‘The Jungle Book’. Afterwards Steve did some work on his final art project and Bucky studied for his final exam.

Bucky was still taking a practice exam when Steve wiped paint off his hands. He bent over the back of the couch and kissed the top of Bucky’s head, then went to the kitchen to see what they had in the refrigerator for supper.

Bucky appeared in the kitchen a half hour later when Steve was tossing the broccoli and chicken into the fettuccine alfredo. “Good timing,” Steve said.

“Mmm, smells good.” Bucky placed a kiss on the corner of Steve’s mouth. “What can I do?”

“Pour the wine?” Steve said as he plated the food.

“What’s the occasion?” Bucky said as he poured the Sangiovese from the decanter into the glasses Steve had already set out.

“Nothing special,” Steve said, taking great care to set the pot on the still-warm burner so Bucky couldn’t see the lie in his words. “Just reminded again how lucky I am.” Steve let himself glance at Bucky. “I don’t want to ever take it for granted.”

“Sap,” Bucky said, but the pink in his cheeks gave away how pleased he was at Steve’s sentiment.

Steve took the wine glass Bucky handed to him.

“Here’s to never taking each other for granted,” Bucky said, and they clinked the rims together before taking a sip.

Bucky waited until Steve had swallowed the wine to move in for a kiss. “I’m lucky, too, pal,” he said when he pulled away licking his lips.

They each carried their plate and glass to the dining room table, which was big enough for all of the Avengers and their extended family when they inserted the extra leaves. Steve and Bucky sat at their favored corner closest to the kitchen, a position that allowed them to tangle their legs together. Bucky didn’t even make fun of the single candle Steve had found (it had come in a floral centerpiece someone had given him as a housewarming gift) and lit.

They put away the leftovers and washed the dishes and blew out the candle. Steve had a dishwasher but he hated the idea of leaving the dishes to sit until there were enough to run a load. Besides, there weren’t many dishes when it was just him, or the two of them when Bucky was there. Bucky refilled their glasses and they carried them into the living room.

Steve thought Bucky would put on a movie, but instead he went over to the ‘vintage’ record player and put on one of Steve’s albums.

“What’s this?” Steve said, setting down his glass so he could take the hand Bucky held out to him.

“This is us appreciating our mutual good fortune.”

Steve smiled and let Bucky pull him into his arms. “Well, I believe in showing my appreciation.”

“And I’m very appreciative of it.”

They slowed danced in the clear area Steve had left in front of the record player. Mostly just a lot of swaying in place because Steve, graceful in a fight, was still decidedly _un_ graceful on the dance floor.

Steve nuzzled into Bucky’s neck, rubbed his cheek against the scruff of beard. He bit and kissed his way to Bucky’s jaw, and then his lips, enjoying the soft gasps and the way Bucky pulled him even closer. Steve brushed Bucky’s lips with his own and nibbled on the corner of Bucky’s mouth. He kept the kisses light at first, until he couldn’t.

Steve clutched at Bucky’s back and moved against him. Bucky’s hand was like a hot brand against Steve’s back, and Steve knew he was gripping Bucky’s hip hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises.

Bucky’s voice was gravelly when he said, “What do you say we skip jazz night and make some sweet, sweet music of our own?”

“I think you have the best ideas.” Steve grabbed Bucky’s ass and lifted him. Bucky’s groan as he wrapped his legs around Steve’s hips sent a shiver through Steve.

Later Steve would turn off the record player and dump the wine and turn out the lights, but right now he had some serious appreciating to do.

~*~

Three weeks later Steve and Bucky stood on 101st Street with hundreds of other people, waiting for the 147th Annual Brooklyn’s Memorial Day Parade to reach them. Steve held Bucky’s hand with the one not holding an iced coffee. He hard the sound of motorcycle engines and bagpipes long before the parade came into view.

Steve felt his shoulders go back as he stood straight and tall when he got his first glimpse of the Rolling Thunder motorcycles at the head of the parade. Steve tightened his grip on Bucky’s hand when tears burned his eyes at the sight of the WWII veterans riding in the cars. There were bands and color guards, army vehicles and floats, and so many veterans.

Steve didn’t move from his spot until the last antique car passed. He and Bucky were swept up in the wave of people that entered the John Paul Jones Park for the memorial service. Steve stood there even after everyone started to disperse.

“When I came out of the ice,” Steve said to Bucky, “they told me we’d won the war. They never told me how much we’d lost.”

They went to Bucky’s parents’ house for a Memorial Day BBQ and no one commented on Steve being more quiet than usual. They brought him drinks and food and dispensed lots of hugs. Steve was grateful for their willingness to leave him be, and for the fact that Bucky rarely moved too far away from his side.

Steve was still thinking about the number of veterans he’d seen today – and this was merely one parade in thousands across the country – and about how many more men and women had been lost. The podcast he’d listened to weeks ago popped into his head. Those men had found comfort in each other after they’d returned home. None of the men Steve had served with were still alive, but their families were.

“Hey,” Steve said when Bucky slipped into bed beside him later that night.

Bucky kissed Steve. “Hey back.”

“Remember how you suggested I visit the families of the Howlies?”

Bucky slid a hand down Steve’s arm and twined their fingers together. “I do.”

“I think I’m ready. I think . . . I think I need to.”

“I’m glad,” Bucky said.

“Will you go with me?”

“Whatever you need,” Bucky said. He raised his arm and Steve rolled into Bucky’s side. The comforting weight of Bucky’s arm draped over Steve’s shoulders.

Steve didn’t feel alone anymore – hadn’t since he’d met Bucky and learned how to accept the offer of friendship from the other Avengers and Jane and Darcy – but there was still a part of him that had been left back in 1945. Maybe by meeting and speaking with the families of the Howling Commandos, by remembering them with people that had also known them, Steve could take one more step towards healing.

“Thank you, Buck.”

Bucky squeezed Steve’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “You don’t ever have to thank me, Steve.”

Steve might never be the same as he was before the war, before the ice, but maybe what he had now was just as good, better even, for all that it was a life he’d never imagined living.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. “We’ve Never Been The Same: A War Story” [blog entry on transom](https://transom.org/2015/weve-never-been-the-same-a-war-story/) & [audio on PRX](https://beta.prx.org/stories/142527-we-ve-never-been-the-same-a-war-story)
> 
> 2\. [My Brooklyn Calendar](http://mybrooklyncalendar.com/events/) | [Park Slope Farmer’s Market](http://mybrooklyncalendar.com/event/park-slope-farmers-market/2018-05-27/) | [The Jungle Book @ Puppetworks](https://www.achildgrows.com/event/the-jungle-book-at-puppetworks-park-slope/2018-04-21/) | [Jazz Session Sundays](http://mybrooklyncalendar.com/event/jazz-session-sundays/all/)
> 
> 3\. [Brooklyn Memorial Day Parade](https://www.brooklynmemorialdayparade.com/) | [Rolling Thunder Ride: Motorcyclists from across nation arrive in DC to honor Memorial Day](https://wtop.com/memorial-day/2018/05/rolling-thunder-ride-bikers-from-across-nation-arrive-in-dc-to-honor-memorial-day/slide/1/) | [John Paul Jones Park](https://www.nycgovparks.org/parks/john-paul-jones-park/history)
> 
> 4\. I bastardized this quote from ‘The Avengers’: "When I went under, the world was at war. I wake up, they say we won. They didn't say what we lost."


End file.
